A Cloak, A Ring, And A Wand
by Goldenbrook15
Summary: Things have never been normal for Harry Potter, so why should death be any different? Time Travel, AU, and Master of Death Harry.


**A Cloak, A Ring, and A Wand**

 _Summary: Things have never been normal for him, why should death be any different? Time Travel, AU, and Master of Death Harry._

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter? Nope. I don't own it.**

 **Anything that seems familiar comes from the books and not from me, so don't get mad because _I don't own it._**

 ** _Chapter 1 – A Hero's Death_**

" _Finally, the truth. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished: Neither would live, neither could survive."_

 _-chapter thirty-four, paragraph 1 of_ The Deathly Hollows _by J. K. Rowling_

Harry could feel his heart pounding frantically in his ribcage as he slipped under his invisibility cloak, hopelessness crashing down on him and crushing the breath from his lungs. He wanted to curl up and cry, cry for the family that he would never be able to have, cry for the childhood he never got, and cry for all those that he had not been able to save _because he hadn't been told._

But he was Harry Potter, and Harry Potter didn't have the luxury to spend time on crying for things that he could not change.

Harry walked in a haze, his eyes empty of emotion but his thoughts filled with a stormy determination. He could not change what had been done, all he could do was protect those that he could here and now, and that meant giving himself over to Voldemot. He was a dead man walking, as some would say.

 _I must die._

Harry paused at the entrance hall, barely registering that he had not been stopped yet, that no one had protested his leaving. Than again, how could they? They could not see him, they could not stop him. He had to do this. He was doing it for them. A part of him still wished, though, still hopped, that someone would call him back, to say that he shouldn't do it and that they would find another way.

There was no other way; Dumbledore had made that plenty clear. He was a pig raised for slaughter, and now it was time to face the slaughter house.

Taking a shaky breath Harry stepped out from the entrance doors where he had paused for a moment, knowing that once he left the safety of the walls of Hogwarts, he would never return. Another step followed the first, and then another as Harry began the slow walk to the forest wile under the invisibility cloak. Every time he passed a body, Death Eater or student, he turned his head away, felling like he was walking through a cemetery and all he could see were the headstones of those he cared for.

A movement caused Harry to glance in that direction only to see Neville and Oliver Wood, carefully transporting the bodies of the dead back to the great hall.

"You know what, I can manage him alone, Neville," Oliver said softly as he picked up the small form of Colin Creevey.

Neville nodded, looking tired and defeated. His eyes were too old for his young face. They were the eyes of a soldier, and a soldier he was. That is what Harry had trained him to be, hadn't he? A pain of guilt speared his heart before he shoved it away. The past was the past. Maybe if he had known that this was going to happen then maybe he could have changed things. But he hadn't known.

"Neville," Oliver was gone now, and Harry pulled off his cloak, looking at his friend, needing to talk to someone one last time, needing to know that someone could finish it after he had gone.

Neville jumped in surprise before he sighed with relief at realizing that it was just Harry.

"Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!"

Harry wanted to smile, but it would not come to his lips.

"Where are you going alone?" the sudden suspicion in Neville's voice was clear.

"It's all part of the plan," Harry said softly, defeat in his tone, "There is something that I have to do," _Even from the grave Dumbledore is still giving orders and moving the chess peaces,_ "Listen – Neville - "

Fear suddenly lit up Neville's eyes, "Harry, you're not thinking of handing yourself over?"

"No," The lie slipped through Harry's teeth as he pushed down his guilt, but he could not tell Neville what he was doing, he would try and stop him, "'Course not . . . This is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while." _You will probably never see me alive again,_ "You know Voldemort's snake, Neville? He's got a huge snake . . . Call's it Nagini . . ."

"I've heard, yeah . . . What about it?"

"It's go to be killed. Just in case . . ." Harry trailed off at the thought of Ron and Hermione being hurt and took a deep breath to steady himself, "Just in case Ron and Hermione are . . . busy . . . and you get the chance -"

"Kill the snake?" Neville asked, his eyes hard in determination.

"Kill the snake," Harry repeated with a nodded.

"All right, Harry. You're okay, are you?" Neville asked, noticing his friend's slightly shaky state.

Harry nodded, forcing a small smile onto his face, "I'm fine. Thanks, Neville."

Neville held him with his eyes for a moment before replying, "We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?"

Harry felt an over whelming stirring of gratitude and despair. That was the thing. They would keep fighting and, if necessary, they would die for him. He couldn't allow them to do that, not again. Not after he had already lost so many.

"Yeah, I -" the words were stuck in Harry's throat but is seemed to appease Neville because he nodded and clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Good luck, Harry," with a final nod Neville released him and walked off in search of more bodies.

Harry held back the tears he could feel in his own eyes as he slipped back underneath his cloak, "Good luck to you too, Neville," he whispered softly, too low for the other to hear, "and . . . goodbye."

The trek to the forest was not far, but every step that Harry took was heavier than the last. He passed Ginny once, and saw her comforting a wounded young girl who pled over and over again that she didn't want to fight anymore. _So young,_ thought Harry, his eyes dark, _too young to have already seen death._ But he did not pause to say goodbye. If he did he might not be able to carry on.

Cold crept up his thin arms as he neared the forest and he could see that, just within the tree line, the dementors floated as guards. Harry closed his eyes, he was too tired. He doubted that he could gather enough happiness to do the spell to drive them off. He didn't have much of it left in him.

"The game has ended," he whispered softly, his breath puffing from his mouth in a frozen mist and green eyes dark with despair, "the Snitch has been caught and now it's time to leave the air . . ."

 _The Snitch has been caught . . ._

The Snitch! His cold fingers fumbled with the pouch around his neck and he pulled the small golden ball out carefully.

 _I open at the close._

His breath was coming in sharp gasps as he looked down at it. Dumbledore had given it to him, and had had to have given it to him for a reason. Just as the lighter had been important to Ron and the story book to Hermione, this stitch no doubt had some hidden meaning within it, something that might help him.

Shakily he lifted it to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."

With a soft click, the golden ball broke open.

There wasn't enough light to see clearly and so Harry lifted Draco's wand and whispered, _"Lumos."_

The wand tip lit up, revealing the small black stone nestled between the two halves of the now broken Snitch. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw the symbol engraved on it, split down the middle by a long crack. It was the Resurrection Stone.

He understood. In the story the brother had killed himself because of the grief of never being able to be with the one he loved again even if he could see her, but Harry wasn't calling them back into the living world, they were coming to fetch him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he turned the small stone in his hands.

The shuffling of others moving around him alerted him to the fact that it had worked. He opened his eyes and had to keep more tears from falling. There they were, more then ghosts but not completely there. They were similar to Riddle from the diary, but at the same time not. While Riddle had been a peace of Voldemort's soul anchored in the living world by the diary, those in from of him were only called for a short time, and would leave as soon as the stone was gone.

There were his parents, smiling proudly at him, but also with a hint of sadness. Next to them was Remus, looking younger than he had in years. Sirius stood behind them his eyes twinkling with hidden secrets and future pranks.

His mother stepped forward, looking like she wanted to cry and hug him, but knew that she could not. "You've been so brave," she said, her green eyes shining and looking much like his did.

Harry could not speak, the words were caught in his throat as he tried to say something, anything.

"You are nearly there," James said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and looking at Harry with a smile that was both sad and happy as the same time, "Very close. We are . . . so proud of you."

An indescribable emotion welled up inside him, both love for the parents that he had never been able to know, and fear for what he was going to do. Before he could stop the childish question slipped from his lips shakily, "Does it hurt?"

It was Sirius that replied this time, "Dying? Not at all. It's quicker and easier than falling asleep."

 _It would be,_ Harry thought bitterly for a moment, _Not that I would know, I've never been able to fall asleep like a normal person because I am always looking over my shoulder for a threat._

He pushed the thoughts back and focused on his task as Remus spoke.

"He will want it to be quick. He wants it over."

"I didn't want you to die," Harry said, "Any of you. I'm sorry I couldn't—"

He choked up again and had to stop or he knew that the tears forming in his eyes would fall. He didn't want to die either, but he had to, or else more people would die and it would be his fault. His place was no longer among the living, he realized, but among the dead.

"You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," James nodded.

Something occurred to Harry and he frowned, "They won't be able to see you?"

"We are part of you," Sirius again, "Invisible to anyone else."

Harry nodded shakily and took another deep breath to steady himself, "Stay close to me," he said to his mother, pleading with his eyes that she would.

He continued toward the dementors' and they parted before him, the spirits of his deceased family acting as Patronuses and warding away the cold. They passed the wall of soul sucking creatures quickly and though he did not know where Voldemort was he kept going.

He didn't feel like he was even there anymore. It was more like he was just wanting from someone else's eyes, not his own. The dead that traveled with him felt much more real to him now, but that was probably because he would be joining them soon. They always said that those close to death called for their deceased loved ones.

The sound of someone talking made him pause and turn to see one of the Death Eaters scowling at a tree near Harry.

"Someone's there," the Death Eater said, "He's got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be—"

"Be quiet, you numb scull! If he is here, which I doubt, than he probably already knows that we are here as well," the second Death Eater said with a dark scowl.

They both fell silent and Harry held his breath. Finally the second one snorted.

"It was probably just an animal or something. Come on, if he was going to show up he would have by now. We should report back now," he growled in annoyance, looking at the watch on his wrist, which Harry found ironic because it was a non-magical item.

Harry let out a soft sigh of relief and followed the two men as the trekked deeper into the forest. Soon he started to see spider webs hanging from the branches of the trees, looking like they had been torn through viciously and he had a very bad feeling that he knew exactly where they were going.

The forest opened up into a large clearing filled with Death Eaters. Harry felt his stomach churn, remembering the last time that he had been here, in his second year. Back then he had nearly been killed to be spider food. It was ironic that now he should come back to this same spot, again of his own choosing, to die.

"There is no sign of him, Master," The first Death Eater said, bowing to the tall, bald man who had his back turned away from Harry.

Harry could see the stiffness in Voldemort's shoulders as the snake-like man twirled his wand between his fingers. Already Harry could feel the twinges of pain coming from his scar signifying that the Dark Lord was angry, though he did not show it.

"I thought he would come," Voldemort murmured softly, "I was, it seems . . . wrong."

Harry shuddered, closing his eyes briefly. It was now or never. For a moment he considered dropping the stone, but decided against it and tucked it into his mole-skin pouch, deciding that it was safer there where only he could get to it. Then, with shaking fingers and a heart that seemed to be trying to escape his chest with its thrashing, Harry pull his cloak off and tucked them under his robes.

"You weren't wrong," Harry was surprised at how strong his voice was in contrast to how he felt. He curled his hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking too much.

Voldemort spun around to face him and for a second Harry saw surprise flash across the Dark Lord's face as his eyes found the determined young man standing at the edge of the forest.

The surprise was gone faster than the others could see it, replaced by a cold, insane smile, "Harry Potter."

A gentle wind rustled Harry's hair as he strode out of the shadows provided by the trees and into the firelight. He stopped just short of the burning wood, never once taking his eyes off of Voldemort. Whispers of astonishment and delight swept through the Death Eaters which were quickly silenced by a gesture from Voldemort.

"You came," a statement, not a question. Harry didn't respond, only lifting his chin a little higher and ignoring the feel of the wand and invisibility cloak pressed against his chest. He couldn't fight, he wouldn't fight. Just like his mother had sacrificed herself so that he could live, so would he be the sacrifice so that Voldemort would never be able to harm any one else again.

The two enemies stood, staring at each other with only a crackling fire to separate them.

"Harry, no!" eyes flicking to the side of the clearing Harry felt a stab of surprise at the sight of Hagrid chained to a tree. He had not seen the gentle half-giant since the beginning of the battle, but it mattered little now. He could only hope that Hagrid would forgive him for what he was about to do.

"Silence him!" Voldemort hissed in response to Hagrid's outburst and one of the Death Eaters put a silencing spell on the half-giant.

As if nothing had happened Voldemort's and his eyes locked again. Harry's breath caught in his throat, knowing what was about to happen and powerless to stop it.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," the Elder Wand twitched as Voldemort brought it level with Harry's chest, "Ready to die?"

In one last act of defiance Harry refused to look away from Voldemort's eyes, refusing to show the fear that he felt as death came speeding toward him.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

The world went green.

0~o~0

As he watched the killing curse speeding toward his nemesis Voldemort couldn't help but feel that he had made a terrible mistake, an inner sense warning him that he had overlooked something important.

He could not take the magic back, though. The green of the curse impacted the boy in the chest, right over his heart. For a breathless moment Voldemort thought that the curse had failed, that the impossible boy had survived again.

Then the light faded from the boy's eyes, his killing-curse green eyes. Though, in a sense, they had been dead long before the curse had ever found its mark. The body swayed and then collapsed suddenly to the ground, not longer able to hold itself up.

Voldemort stared down at the fallen form of Harry Potter, his wand not wavering from the prone form. A feeling of disbelief swept over him. He had finally done it. He had defeated Harry Potter, after all these years the only one who could ever stand in his way was gone.

For some strange reason . . . he couldn't accept it. The boy had fought to hard, too long to have just given up. There had to be something else, something that he just wasn't seeing, something to ensure that the light won even after their leader's death.

"Narcissa," Voldemort hissed, not taking his eyes off of Potter's body, "Make sure that he is dead."

The woman hesitated, glancing between him, his wand, and the boy's prone form. A slight shudder swept through her frame as she gave in to his command and swept forward. Her long hair draped over her face as she leaned down over the body and rolled the boy over. There was no reaction.

Unnoticed to the Death Eaters Voldemort let out a silent breath of relief.

Narcissa carefully placed a hand over his head, feeling for a pulse. After a moment she sat back up, defeat in her eyes. "He's dead."

It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Prophesied One, was no longer among the living, no longer a threat to him.

But still the feeling of unease wrapped around his thoughts. He pushed it away in favor of sneering down at the body and turning to look at his followers.

"You see, our greatest foe, dead at my feet!" the Death Eaters cheered at his words. Behind them he heard the half-giant break through the silencing charm to wail in anger and horror.

"There is nothing that can stand in our way of–" a sudden pain pierced his chest, right over his heart and, Voldemort couldn't help but think, right where the killing curse had struck Potter. His voice died in his throat and he distantly recognized the frantic cries of Bellatrix as she tried to help him, but he knew that he was beyond help.

The pain grew, sweeping slowly through him just as his blood did, paralyzing his body. The world around him narrowed; his vision fading. Startled, Voldemort realized that he was dieing and this time there wasn't enough to keep him from Death's clutches. He could feel his fractured soul, weak and less then it had been just a few weeks before. The only thing that had been anchoring him to this world, though he hadn't realized it until this point, was the blood flowing through his body, the blood of one Harry James Potter, who he had just killed.

All too soon even Bellatrix's frantic screeching faded into the darkness that was quickly swallowing up everything. With a final, desperate breath, Voldemort breathed his last and his body went still.

In the Chaos that followed no one but Narcissa noticed that the body of Harry Potter had disappeared. The only thing that gave away that he had ever been there was human shaped indent in the ground where he had fallen.

The in months and years that followed no one once questioned where the wand that Voldemort had used went.

Stories told decades later would fail to capture these small, but ever so important details.

0~o~0

Far from where he had started, indeed, even _farther_ from where he was supposed to be, Harry Potter sat up with a gasp. Wide, emerald eyes opened, astonished to be alive.

 **0~o~0**

 **Had this partly written for a while and had some new ideas that I could add to it, so here it is. Don't expect regular updates, but the more reviews that I get the faster I write the next chapter.**

 **Thanks to all of those who read this and I hope that you enjoyed it.**

 **(Updated:** **6/9/2015** **)**


End file.
